Burying Beliefs
by Myrime
Summary: She had lived a lie for twelve years, grieving for a son that didn't deserve her love. If only she could remember her baby boy like he had been, not like the monster he turned out to be.


AU-ish, because Wormtail gets captured. If wishes were horses...

* * *

Burying Beliefs

She lived a lie for twelve years, grieved for someone who wasn't dead, who, worse than that, deceived their whole world, made them all believe he was someone honourable, someone worth remembering. In fact, he was just a traitor, a rat, trying to save his own life.  
And she had believed in him, cried for him, loved him.

She remembered the day the Auror came, a small wooden box in hand, wearing a grave expression. They awarded him with an Order of Merlin First Class, called him a hero, a true friend. It didn't help with her pain, nothing could fill the hole her son's death had ripped into her heart. But at the same time, she was so grateful. For those friends he had, that helped him overcome the fears that tormented him, those friends that made him stronger than anyone thought possible. He was always the quiet one, small and unnoticed, alone and frightened. Those boys changed him, they made him smile and stand straight. They taught him what it meant to live.  
To hear he stood up against one of them, against a traitor, a murderer; it would have made her heart burst with pride hadn't it been shattered by the news of his death. Her little boy, a hero - dead.

She buried his finger - all they had ever found - and his Order, not wanting to be reminded of what had to happen for him to achieve it. She buried her son but couldn't escape the memories. Uncounted nights were spent crying for him, days flew by, faces and voices of people she once knew and liked blurred into each other, moving on around her while she was all but stuck in her pain.  
It took her years to recover, to accept what had happened, to smile again at the memory of her baby. That was when she could finally feel proud for the person he grew up to be.

Then Black escaped, the murderer of her son, the one who broke a once perfect friendship. She hated him with a passion, not only for what he did to her Pete, but for being a traitor, for not being strong enough where her son had overcome his fears.  
She had met him when they were children and she had always thought he looked nice enough, despite being a Black. She had looked into his eyes, finding honesty, love for those three friends, courage. How had she missed the signs of madness? How hadn't she noticed that he was drifting apart?

He had come to her, that Hallow's Eve. Had almost broken down her door, yelling for Peter to open up. But Peter wasn't there, he was already out to try and do what he could for his friends, while Black was trying to finish his bloody mission. She hadn't known that then, but again, how easily she had been deceived. When she finally stood in front of him, he seemed out of his mind and for a single moment she pitied him, not knowing what caused him to be in such pain. There was urgency in his voice when he asked where Peter had gone. She had interpreted it as care for a friend. And suddenly she was afraid. What if her little boy was in danger? Why else would his friend search for him?

Pete had wanted to spend the evening with them. 'Just like the good old times,' he had said, with a sad little half-smile. And when he hugged her - no clung to her as if she was his lifeline - she told him, everything was going to be alright, that the war would end, and that then, they'd have all the time in the world again. He had tensed up in her arms, but when she finally looked into his eyes his expression was that of a normal boy, eager to see his friends. She was so sure the shadows hovering in them were just a trick of her mind.  
She had often wondered if she could have changed the following events, had she just asked him what was bothering him. But as it was, she had, unknowingly, held her son for the last time, leaving so many things unspoken.

* * *

The letter of the Ministry caught her unprepared. She was to come to an official hearing concerning new evidence in her son's case. What new evidence could they have? They had caught his murderer twelve years ago, she had buried him, grieved for him. What could possibly be important enough to rip open old wounds?  
Her own ignorance made her fall even worse. Locking eyes with her son after nearly thirteen years of believing him dead shattered something inside her she had thought lost so long ago.  
The trial - not that she realized then that it was one - went on around her, while she couldn't look away from him. Later she would remember the words that were spoken, feeling them like daggers piercing her heart.

_'I've always been innocent. It was the rat that killed them. He was their secret keeper. He sold them out._'

_'What could I have done? You don't know what he can do. He would have killed me._' Her son's voice strained and hoarse, but unmistakably his.

_'Then you should have died. Like we would have done for you._' Part of her agreed with Black, making her hate herself even more.

They took his Order and his freedom. They questioned him for hours before locking him up in Azkaban, never to escape the misery he had created all by himself. He was taken from her again, but this time the loss was overshadowed by another kind of grief, one that tormented her at night, demanding to know what she had done wrong, how she had been deceived so easily. They say, love is blind. She guessed that's even more true for a mother's love, unconditioned and infinite. Only that hers had dried out. The image of her little boy had been replaced by that of the traitor in that courtroom. Time hadn't been kind to him, his face lined, his eyes dull and half-mad. He didn't look anything like the honest, innocent child she had raised. There was no innocence left in him, pleading his one-time friend, whom he had condemned to hell, to _understand_ why he had gone to You-know-who, still believing his way had been the only one possible.

He didn't ask for forgiveness, didn't care for anything but his own sorry life. She couldn't take it. When he realized there wouldn't be any help for him from his former friends, his gaze fell on her. And she – she turned away and left the courtroom without another glance back, never noticing the tears leaking out her downcast eyes while she tried to keep this new nightmare from taking place in her memory. Her son was dead. It was better to remember the boy he had been. Her heart had been broken when she had buried him all those years ago. She couldn't bear that pain again.

* * *

When they came to visit her, she could see the damage her son had done. Lupin, always a bit on the shy side, but always willing to hand out second chances, was far older than he had any right to be. His face was full of deep lines, a map of bitterness and loss. He watched his surroundings carefully, always ready to defend the one friend he had left, unwilling to lose him again. Black himself was haunted, no surprise after twelve years in hell. His eyes were dark abysses, hinting at the horrors buried beneath. Still, he seemed sane and, when looking at his companion, his smile was honest, real.

She didn't want to think of her baby in Azkaban. If innocence had saved Black, how bad must it be for Peter, who carried so much guilt?

She reluctantly invited them in, unsure how to react to their presence. They had been pleasant boys, so surely they weren't here to gloat or to blame her?!

"Mrs. Pettigrew," Lupin began, his voice still soft if a bit hoarse. "We're here to tell you, that we're sorry." He smiled faintly, knowing deep inside how insufficient words were. Black however didn't look like he wanted to do any such thing, not that she could blame him. But he was here, and that made her heart bleed even more.

She led them to the kitchen, making tea only to keep her hands busy and to buy some time before she had to answer.

"Why would you do that?" she finally said, without meeting their eyes. "You owe nothing to a Pettigrew. In fact –"

"Don't say that," Blacks voice was steadier than she would have thought. And now there was a fire in his eyes. "Your son -," he hesitated. "Peter changed. That man twelve years ago, that man in the courtroom; he wasn't Peter. Don't blame yourself."

"But -," she started weakly, tears filling her eyes once again.

"I may have no love for who he became. But he was a brother of mine once."

"You lost a son. Just like we lost a friend. That is why we're here." Lupin added.

How could they talk like this? They, more than anyone else, had suffered from this betrayal. She had seen Black's hate for the one who caused his suffering. But maybe they were right, maybe they were here for what had once been.

"We found something we thought you might like to have."

It was a photo, taken on the eve of graduation. Four boys, waving up at her. Smiling, ready to conquer the world waiting for them, oblivious to the dark times ahead, not yet tainted by war and loss. Four boys, four friends, for brothers. A bond once meant for eternity. And in that moment it didn't matter that those bonds were destroyed from within. It didn't matter what became of those for boys. This was what should be remembered.

She couldn't speak, couldn't find a single word to describe the emotional turmoil raging inside her, the grief, the gratitude. But looking up at the two men in front of her, she knew she didn't have to. Their eyes were holding the same pain. So she simply hugged Lupin and smiled at Black, the first true smile since getting the news. Then she took the photo, holding it close to her heart, knowing she had found a way to remember him.

* * *

It was over. Her son was dead and buried, even if his grave was Azkaban, he was gone.

Little did she know of the times to come, plans to bring the Dark Lords most faithful servant back to him. And when they returned to glory, Peter tagged along.

And when she found out, it was when they found his body, finally betrayed by the master he chose to serve. They told him he died while helping the son of those he had once betrayed. And while she didn't grieve, knowing her son had died long ago, it eased her pain a bit that he had finally tried to atone. Maybe she didn't fail completely at being a mother.


End file.
